I’ve been in deep thought these last few days.
Shifting through old patterns.
Pasts gone by,
And futures to birth.
It’s been good to put the words of MD on paper.
It’s seems common sense, but the last piece in the puzzle of myself has been writing.
Do I love it?
Do I hate it?
Am I bringing it with me?
Am I leaving it behind?
I’ve been digging up some work from 2018 when I began to get my own writing style and “voice”.
It’s funny, because:I have taken my writing for granted for so long... Like a lover whose arms you no longer appreciate keeping you safe and sound, my writing has been similarily un-noticed. Just a thing. Not really a special thing. And yet.... Click To Tweetwhen I take it away from myself…..
when I feel myself getting judged for my work and the things I want to share, I find myself full of love adamantly defending that which only the day before I was ready to discard which makes me realise…
My writing is coming with me. Not my story. But my writing. My words. My swords. Me. Nina. Click To Tweet If I can morph into any woman in the world I want, if I can conjure and create the life of my dreams, then why would I not bring my true love with me? Click To Tweet
My creased sheets of paper.
My worlds I dip in and out of.
They are as much a part of me, as all the other grown up and sensible parts that are needed in my life.
This morning as I sit here facing judgement from myself for wanting to publish my work I realise this isn't happening any more..... If I am to create a life for myself which I love and enjoy, then writing and publishing is part of that. Click To Tweet
And the best bit?
Nobody can take that away from me other than myself.
There is no judgement.
No wrong words.
No right words.
No I don’t need to write clear.
All I need to do in life is what brings me joy.
My stairway to heaven is ready to climb.